


hearts and souls

by Chocoholic221B



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, He's also a singer prodigy, I don't know if I should put in romance, I like the wholesome friendship these four have and it can definitely hold the story on its own, I promise not to make it too sad, Killua and Gon are in a band with Bisky, Kurapika has laryngeal cancer, Kurapika still hates them, Kurapika won't take the surgery, Leorio wants to cure Kurapika, Obviously inspired by Full Moon wo Sagashite and those mobage cards, Phantom Troupe are a band, Romance is cute, but like, sad sometimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-10 12:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12911817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocoholic221B/pseuds/Chocoholic221B
Summary: Kurapika is a troubled youth suffering from laryngeal cancer and a love for singing, forever weighed down by the memories of the friend he'd lost. Leorio's a med student who will most definitely not lose another friend to cancer. Gon's looking for his dad, the mysterious lead singer of a legendary band. Killua finds a way to channel his passion for music while avoiding his family, or more specifically, his family's business. Hisoka's teaching chemistry. Chrollo's got a band and Kurapika's everlasting hatred. Biscuit has an amazing singing voice.





	1. on my own

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning, I know nothing of cancer, nor do I know anyone who has been afflicted by it. This is all purely based on extensive research. If you see anything that looks like an inaccurate portrayal of this illness, please let me know.

**hearts and souls:**

**I:**

**on my own**

Kurapika transferred to the hospital only once, so they could monitor his progress or lack thereof. It was during that time that he met Pairo, a boy around his age with dark hair and eyes and one of the kindest people he’d had the pleasure of knowing in those eleven years of his. Pairo had been diagnosed with a rare eye cancer a few years prior and had moved into Kurapika's neighborhood for better treatment. According to specialists, eye melanoma wasn’t dangerous until it spread. The doctors had been hopeful, his chances were even better than Kurapika’s.

The two of them met thanks to a miraculous arrangement that ended up having Pairo and him share a room. They hit it off from the second they met as if the two were just old friends reconnecting, instead of strangers united by some unfortunate circumstances. The nurses even took to calling them platonic soulmates. Kurapika never liked that title. He just thought Pairo was fun to be around, that was all. No fate to it.

One day they were taken out by their parents for Christmas dinner at Kurapika’s house. The doctor thought it a good idea, giving them the go-ahead, hinting that both boys might be able to move back home soon. After all, both of their illnesses had gone into partial remission. 

Everyone had been reasonably excited for the occasion. Both their families, together, for the first time in six months? It was better than any Christmas Gift. 

The pair of friends sneaked out into the backyard after dinner, to the swing sets that Kurapika’s parents had made for him a few years prior. They made their way through the snowy lawn, ignoring the snow that mingled with their hair and skin. The two swings creaked and squeaked under their weight, and the sound almost seemed to echo in the silence of the night. 

“You used to sing, right, Kurapika?” Pairo asked, as they sat quiet on the swing sets, pushed every now and then by the winter wind. 

Kurapika glanced at his friend. Why bring this up now? He knew he couldn’t do that anymore. “Yeah?” 

“Could you sing something for me?” the brunet asked, leaning closer to him, strangely excited. 

Kurapika frowned, kicking at the snow at his feet grumpily, though all he felt inside was nervousness. “I don’t know. It’s been a long time. And my voice is all messed up, so I -” 

“It’s alright,” Pairo insisted, leaning in even closer and causing Kurapika to inch away, as Pairo's wide, brown eyes focused in on him. They were framed by thick-rimmed glasses flecked with snow, Pairo's vision failing him by the day due to the cancer and the treatment that went with it. “If it’s yours, I know I’ll like it!” 

His face grew hot, and even he was surprised the snow around him didn’t melt from the body heat. Taking compliments was difficult for him.

“What? I mean,” he cleared his throat, which hurt a lot more than expected, so his voice came out quieter than before despite the clearing of the throat, “okay?” 

Pairo sat up straight on the swing again, hands loosening around the chains holding him up. And he stayed like that, silent but clearly eager to hear his best friend finally use this elusive talent of his. 

Kurapika moistened his lips and swallowed. It hurt a bit but he was used to that. He ran the lyrics through his head, hearing the music ring and vibrate in his ears, and his lips parted and the words fell off them. 

His voice was quiet and soft, but in the quiet of the night, it was thunderous. No, it was just right. Soon, Pairo started humming along, recognizing the song as one of the carols Kurapika’s family had sung. Pairo’s memory never failed him, his humming harmonized perfectly. 

It was nice . . . to sing again. Laryngeal cancer made it hard to sing. It hurt, it made your voice hoarse and raspy. You couldn’t sing, or speak for that matter, much louder than a whisper. But Kurapika would never let them cut it out. Not when it practically guaranteed that he would never be able to sing, to speak, again. He loved singing. It was his life’s purpose, the only that made him feel whole. He  _ had  _ to sing. Even if it was just to himself. 

Halfway through the song, his voice broke on a note where he dared to be a little louder. It set him off on a coughing fit without even the slightest warning. As if his body decided he’d had enough singing time for now.

Pairo panicked, reaching out to him. “Are you alright?” 

He nodded, breathing in shakily as the fit ended. “I’m fine. Thanks.” 

Pairo’s brow wrinkled in worry. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes,” he replied, a little too fast, a little too snappish, and Pairo shrank away. Kurapika felt his heart sink at that expression. His temper got the better of him sometimes, and he wasn't particularly proud of it.

He smiled, trying to mend the broken atmosphere that shattered with his outburst. “So, do you think Dr. Yorkshire will actually let us go home?”

Pairo lightened up easily. He wasn’t one to stay down for too long. “I hope so, we’ve been in there forever! But I’m gonna miss sharing rooms. It’s funner that way.”

“Maybe we should have a ton of sleepovers? One night I can go to your house, the next you can come to mine!” Kurapika suggested, holding up a finger to accentuate his point, edging closer to his friend in all his eagerness. 

“And it wouldn’t smell like a hospital!” Pairo cheered, raising his hand. Kurapika high-fived him, a giant grin on his face. Their moment together was suddenly interrupted by a woman's voice.

“You won’t last long, if you stay out there!” he heard his mother shout from the porch. His mother had always boasted super-human hearing. She just . . . heard everything.  

Pairo laughed, Kurapika tried to, only to wince a bit and settle for a tight-lipped smile, one Pairo returned with a small, worried frown. He said nothing, only suggesting they return to the house so they can turn in for the night. If they stayed up too late, they would sleep in too long tomorrow and wouldn't be able to do everything they wanted.

Pairo stayed in Kurapika’s room for that night. His parents taking the couch downstairs. Kurapika had expertly set out the mattress that morning and showered it with a large assortment of blankets and five pillows because he’d be damned if Pairo didn’t sleep well because it was too cold or the mattress was too bumpy. Nope, Pairo would have the best sleep in forever. 

The two friends went to bed, but it was some time before they fell asleep. Mostly because a particular blond couldn't be quiet for five seconds.

“Hey, Pairo?” Kurapika asked some time when they lay in their respective beds. “What do you wanna do once we get better?” 

Pairo stayed silent for a long moment, and Kurapika wondered if that was a good question to ask. If it would make Pairo feel bad. But then, it was Pairo and Pairo didn’t get upset. “I don’t really know. There’s a lot I still want to see.” 

“Like traveling?” he asked. 

“Uh-huh, don’t you?” 

Kurapika nodded, though he knew Pairo probably couldn’t see the motion with his glasses so far out of reach and all the lights off. “I want to go on tours, so people can listen to me live without having to go too far.”

“Awww,” Pairo spoke, and you could hear the smile behind those words, feel the little glimmer of laughter in his eyes, even when you couldn’t see it in the darkness that shrouded the room. “You do have a soft, mushy side under that temper!” 

“Oh, shut up,” Kurapika muttered, throwing one of his pillows at the boy, who just giggled a bit. 

“It’s true,” the boy sang, tossing the dolphin pillow back at its owner, who caught it with ease. “Kurapika Kurta is a softie ~!” 

“Quiet!” Kurapika protested, keeping his voice low enough that it didn’t rouse his parents nor hurt his throat. 

“Kurapika Kurta is a softie!” he chanted louder, and Kurapika leaped down onto his mattress and pressed his hand to the boy’s mouth. 

“Shh, you’ll wake everyone else up!” Kurapika hissed, but the brunet just kept smiling, before moving away from his hand and freeing his mouth from those who sought to silence him. 

The boy continued to chant, though considerably quieter this time. Kurapika frowned, unimpressed yet willing to settle. He was beginning to crawl back into bed when he was tackled into a hug and pulled down. 

Both boys fell back on the mattress as Kurapika let out a small yelp of protest. “Hey!” 

“It suits you,” Pairo offered, sounding blissfully happy. Kurapika rolled his eyes. Even as a child, he wasn’t much of a hugger. Pairo definitely was.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t respond to one. They stayed that way, with their arms wrapped around each other, waiting for the adrenaline rush to pass and give into lethargy. 

Kurapika eventually broke that silence, as one question continued to toss and turn around in his brain. “Hey, Pairo? Do you think it’s possible for us to get better? Like, really get better?” 

No answer. 

“Pairo?” 

More silence. And then, Kurapika noticed the other boy’s steady breathing beside him and the way his limbs loosened from around him. Careful not to stir the brunet awake, he untangled himself from the hug and wrapped Pairo up in a cocoon of blankets. Nodding once for a job well done, the blond finally crawled back into his own bed, letting fatigue slowly carry him away into dreams of traveling and singing and his best friend being there through it all.

. . .

Kurapika and Pairo went back to the hospital a few days later, as Dr. Yorkshire had requested, for a final set of exams. She deemed them both stable enough to return home and leave treatment alone for a while. As children, the medicine had always been rough on them, so the thought of not having to take it anymore only added to the excitement. They’d still be doing routine check-ups, just in case, but for the moment, it seemed both boys had found their path to recovery. 

The two went to the same school, though neither of them had been able to attend too often while in the hospital. Their class schedules miraculously coincided, so the two friends ended up spending most of their days together, which suited them just fine. During lunch, they were together. During class, they always partnered up. It seemed almost ridiculous to imagine them apart.

One of their parents would always come pick them up, and then they’d spend their evenings together as well. They’d often end up staying the night, playing cards and board games and reading, until eventually, someone came and told them to go to sleep. After which, the two of them would, of course, talk for a few more hours until one of them actually managed to fall asleep.  

In short, they were inseparable. Together, they lived. 

And then, one day, when his mother was driving them to Kurapika’s house, Pairo got a headache. 

Which usually didn’t mean anything, everyone got headaches, but just in case, Kurapika’s mom took him to the hospital. Dr. Yorkshire did a few exams. She came back and Kurapika understood before anything was spoken, just by the look on her face. It was the same look she’d given his parents when his test results came back in. 

“It’s spread beyond his eyes,” the green-haired woman spoke, each word slow and deliberate as she eyed them warily. “There’s a tumor in his brain now, coming from his optic nerve and spreading to other regions . . .” 

That was all the two of them caught before Kurapika’s parents led them out, as per proper protocol. The doctors expected Pairo’s to break the news to them in a gentler fashion later on. 

Pairo was admitted back into the hospital. His chances dropped from eighty to fifteen and then to a mere five. A year and a half of fighting later, with Kurapika by his side, singing to him as their ritual demanded, Pairo passed away. It was a week before his fourteenth birthday. Kurapika lived on and eventually gave up trying to fill the void left behind. He wondered what would happen if Pairo had still been alive. He wondered if he’d be joining him anytime soon. He wondered how much his parents would suffer then, and he decided that he’d fight as long as he could. 

He wondered these things for three years, not willing to open up again, pushing away any possible friends, because he knew his time was limited and theirs wasn’t. 

So, when his senior year rolled in and he started looking into colleges, he didn’t expect anything to change. How wrong he’d been.

**. End of Chapter .**


	2. at the beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurapika's daily life is interrupted by spiky-haired people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't own Hunter x Hunter. Kurapika's such a perfectionist in this fic, though. He really needs to relax. Also, check out Finding Home on Kindle Press. It's in the NaNoWriMo2017 category. But wait! It's not out yet because I, much like Kurapika, am a perfectionist when it comes to original work and that book's not leaving until it's perfect. I'll tell you when it's there, though. And all you have to do to get it actually published is nominate it. Please. Please, please, please. Yes, I'm aware that this is shameless self-marketing, I don't care. Go vote for it when it comes out if you so choose. Unless you already voted for three books, in which case, you're useless to me. Jk, love you all.

hearts and souls:

chapter 2:

at the beginning

"Everything's still stable," Dr. Yorkshire says. Outside her office, the sun starts to set. "I think we'll keep you off medication for now."

There is a pause in her speech, and Kurapika raises an eyebrow, forcing his eyes away from the painted sky. He has his chin propped up on one hand, which leans on the cushioned arm of his seat. On his face, there is melancholy. The woman's forehead contorts into a look of concern, one he knows all too well. Here comes the talk.

"Are you feeling alright, Kurapika?" she asks, placing the clipboard by her computer. Then, she spins around in her chair to face him fully, places her arms on the desk separating them, and leans closer to show that she's all ears. Dr. Yorkshire has always cared more about her patients than others in her field often see as appropriate. Still, Kurapika feels grateful for this side of her.

The blond smiles, though it's an uneasy little thing, not the giant grins he used to display. "I'm fine. Just lost in thought. I've been busy with school lately."

"Well, that's good," the woman says, relaxing a bit. "Just remember to take care of yourself."

He rolls his eyes. "How could I forget? That's all you ever talk about."

She gives him a stern look. "It's only because you keep overworking yourself. I don't want to see any more colds on this list for the next few months, understood?"

"Of course," he drawls, she glares back at him, threatening, and he quickly atones for his mistakes, "I will. Of course, I will. No more colds from me, Dr. Yorkshire."

The woman purses her lips, a deep frown forms on her face. She doesn't believe him. That's alright, Kurapika wouldn't have believed himself in her shoes. His medical record is a flurry of emergencies brought on by his tendency to go overboard. He can't help it, though. Everything has to be perfect in his mind, otherwise, it's not worth anything. Unfortunately, this philosophy doesn't extend to his health. This also means he pays frequent visits to hospitals and clinics. They're practically a second home now.

Dr. Yorkshire doesn't get a chance to respond. The door is suddenly slammed open. They both turn around as a tall, gangly man staggers into the office with arms full of boxes and books. After a few seconds of struggling to reach them, he places his cargo on the desk right in front of Kurapika, practically right in his face, who looks about as incredulous as he feels. The blond leans away, a disgusted countenance rising on his face. Rudeness. It's easily Kurapika's biggest pet peeve.

The bespectacled, far-too-tall-to-be-human man heaves a breath of relief and whispers, "I made it." He smiles at Dr. Yorkshire in greeting. "I got all the things you needed. Including the antihistamines this time."

"Excuse me," Kurapika interrupts, attempting to be polite. "Do you mind?"

"Heh? Oh, sorry," the man says, sliding the boxes out of Kurapika's way. It isn't good enough, the blond maintains his glaring at both offenders. He is ignored, and the man has no idea the beast he's just prodded. Instead, he insists on speaking to the doctor, blissfully unaware of Kurapika's belligerence.

"Uh, Leorio," Dr. Yorkshire tried to interrupt, but he just keeps talking. Kurapika stares at him, fingers tap against the armrests, his irritation coils in his throat and threatens to spill over by the minute. And still, there is no reaction.

He speaks again, a few minutes later, his face stony, "I'm sorry, are you not aware that it is rude to ignore others after barging in on a private conversation?"

"What?" he manages to say, sounding startled. The irate patient stands and looks up at the man with a sour expression.

"Leorio, was it?" the boy asks, crossing his arms. "What is your position in this hospital?"

On the other side of the desk, Dr. Yorkshire has buried her face in her hands. She knows where this is heading. Kurapika feels a bit bad to be causing a scene, but that feeling is quickly squashed by the defiance in Leorio's stance.

"I'm a med student and Dr. Yorkshire's assistant," he replies, and the look in his eyes matched Kurapika's.

"Just because you are Dr. Yorkshire's assistant, does not mean you can barge in whenever you'd like. There are patients who are far worse in these sorts of situations than I -"

Leorio cuts him off, grumbling, "I find that hard to believe."

"Well, Leorio, it doesn't matter if your mind can't seem to wrap itself around the concept, if you're not supposed to be here, you should knock," Kurapika continues, stubborn as a mule and prouder too.

"First of all, it's Mr. Paladiknight to you, brat," Leorio spits back, poking him in the chest. Kurapika's eyes flash. "And second, I'm delivering the supplies that I'm supposed to. It's my job."

"It's common courtesy!"

"My hands were kind of full, thanks!"

"That's why you have a voice! Which, far as I can see, is functioning perfectly well!"

They go on like that for a few minutes, each one having a counter-argument to whatever the other one says, even if it is a poorly crafted one. In the end, Kurapika huffs, feels his throat acting up, and leaves without another word, too proud to start a fit right then and there.

. . .

"Are you alright, child?" an elderly man asks, as a coughing Kurapika making his way back to his car.

Kurapika smiles at him, clenching his jaw and swallowing, trying to keep it at bay for just a few seconds, just long enough to reassure this nice man. "Yes, thank you, just a little cough, that's all."

The man replies, still concerned, "well, you better clear that up, then. Feel better soon, son."

"Thank you," he manages, his grin wavering for a number of reasons. "I will."

He nods once, before heading into the building. Kurapika smiles all the way until he's out of sight before clearing the last stretch of land between him and his car. After fumbling with the keys for far longer than necessary, he gets in the driver's seat and coughs to his heart's content. These coughing fits can last up to fifteen minutes on a bad day. Today isn't a bad day, it's a normal day, so it takes him only two for it to clear up.

He heaves a sigh as the knives in his throat calm down. His hands wipe away any stray tears, before moving up to rake through his hair.

"Damn it," he whispers, head down, hands clasped on the back of his neck.

There is knocking on his windows, and then, "Hey! Are you okay?"

It's that man again. Leorio. The 'med student' stands outside, an anxious look on his face and something - a pen? - in his hand. Kurapika relents, opening the car door and stepping outside.

"Do you need something?" he asks.

Leorio scratches the back of his head, flustered, before finally taking in his face. "Were you . . . crying?"

Kurapika bristles, and another layer of metaphorical walls close in around him. "No, I wasn't. They're allergies. Now, if that's all -"

"It's not!" the man insists, stepping closer. "I, um, what I meant was . . ."

"I don't have all day," Kurapika reminds, already reaching for the handle.

The man scowls, exhales, and bursts, "I'm sorry!"

"What?"

"I overreacted," Leorio explains, loosening the collar of his uniform, nervously. "I, uh, shouldn't have treated you like that and I'm really sorry."

Kurapika tilts his head to the side, and a shadow of a smile creeps over his mouth. His hand falls to his side. When the man had come into Dr. Yorkshire's office, Kurapika had assumed he was rude and uncouth. He wasn't wrong then, and he still thinks the man is rude and uncouth, but at least he owes up to it, which is more than he can say for others he'd come across. Kurapika can't just let Leorio steal the spotlight.

"I'm sorry, too," he replies, and Leorio has the gall to look surprised. "I misjudged your character." He bites his bottom lip. "I know I have a tendency to get angry over silly things."

Leorio grins. "I can see that."

"But in my defense, you did dump a pile of boxes in front of my face and proceeded to act like I didn't exist. You were being rude," Kurapika says, sliding into the driver's seat again.

"Oy, aren't you a little young to be driving?" Leorio asks, leaning down to his eye level.

"I'm seventeen years old. Last time I checked the required age for obtaining a driver's license was sixteen."

Leorio stays there, gawking. Kurapika raises an eyebrow.

"How old did you think I was?"

"I don't know. Fifteen, maybe?" Leorio answers with eyes averted.

Kurapika smirks. Being considered young is the least of his problems. "How old are you, then? I'm guessing you're about thirty."

Leorio blanches, a deep scowl on my face. Then, he yells, "I'm twenty years old, brat!"

"I would prefer it if you refrained from calling me a brat. You're only three years older than me," Kurapika reasons, crossing his arms rather pompously.

The man turns away from the blond with a huff. "Well, according to you, I'm thirteen years older, so . . ."

"How childish. For the record, I think you just look very mature for your age. Fatherly, even," Kurapika reassures, and this time, he smiles. And it's not forced, or cynical, or even weak. It's a full-blown, beautiful, cheek-to-cheek grin and Kurapika doesn't even realize it. So, when Leorio gets all starry-eyed, he doesn't exactly know why.

"Thanks, I guess," Leorio mutters, still gawking.

Kurapika's phone rings out of the silence, and Kurapika sighs, before answering.

"Hello, mom," he greets, monotonously.

"Oh, Jun, he's alive! He's okay!" his mother yelled. "Why did it take you so long to call? Do you have any idea how worried I was? We! We were."

"I was at the hospital, mom," Kurapika says, plugging the key into the ignition and closing the door. "I'm on my way home now."

And he hangs up. His mother is far too noisy for someone with Kurapika's short temper.

Another knock on his window gets him to look the other way. Leorio is still standing outside. The window rolls down and Kurapika raises a questioning eyebrow.

"Here!" Leorio offers him a piece of paper and the pen he had been holding. "It's my number. Call me."

Kurapika takes it. "For what reason? I don't need anything from you."

Leorio laughs, scratching the back of his neck. "Well, I just assumed . . . you looked kind of lonely, and I thought you could use a friend to . . . talk to and stuff."

The blond's jaw clenches and he fixes his eyes on the building in front of him with a steely force. "I don't need your pity."

"What? No, that's not it!" Leorio assures him, waving his hands around frantically. "I just thought it'd be nice to be friends."

Kurapika doesn't look at him. "I refuse your offer." Rolling down the window a little more, the boy tries to give him back his phone number. "Take it back."

Leorio retreats, muttering another apology, before running back into the building. Kurapika is left alone in the parking with a pen that isn't his and a series of random numbers in his hand. That man. He knows what he is now. He is a madman.

With a dissatisfied expression, he starts the car and heads home.

Home is a humble dwelling with light brown vinyl siding and a pitched roof. A variety of flowers and other plants run around the house. His parents are florists and bakers, so they often indulge in their chosen career paths outside of work as well. Together, they earn just enough to live comfortably and keep up with Kurapika's hospital bills. Bills that their insurance company covers for the most part.

"I'm home!" he calls out. His mother emerges from the living room with a bouquet in hand. Her hair is curled at the ends as usual, and she dons her chosen armor of sweatpants and a large T-shirt because dressing nicely is a waste of time in her mind.

"Finally," she says, shoving the display of flowers in his face, "what do you think? Too much?"

Kurapika gives one critical look over the assortment of oranges and yellows. He frowns. "It's for that wedding, right? I'd add some magnolias or jasmines in for some contrast. It'll be too bright otherwise."

His mother purses her lips and gazes at the bouquet. "I guess you're right. I'll have to make a trip to the shop, though."

"I can go," he offers, already turning away.

"No!" his mother insisted, taking his arm and pushing him towards the kitchen. "You stay here. You just got back. I can go."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yeah! Remember what the doctor ordered, too much is activity isn't good for you," she lectured, before disappearing through the door.

It seems everyone wants him to remember all the things he can't do.

With a sigh, Kurapika wonders into the kitchen, where Pairo's parents and his father sit discussing whatever it is that parents discuss.

"Hello, Kurapika," Pairo's mother greets. "How're you doing?"

"Very well, thank you," he replies and walks over to the kettle on the stove. "The doctor says nothing's changed."

"That's good news," the woman says. She doesn't enquire any further. His illness is a touchy subject for the woman. The death of a child isn't a pain any parent should be forced to face. Kurapika doesn't mind her evading the topic. He isn't keen on it himself.

Pairo's father speaks, searching for a lighter topic, "how's school?"

"Good. I'm keeping up well with my classes," Kurapika responds without missing a beat. He's familiar with these questions.

"Made any friends yet?"

Kurapika sucks in a quiet breath, closes his eyes, opens them, and plasters a smile on his face. "Not exactly. I'm a bit busy now."

"That's too bad. Remember to relax every now and then, yes?" Pairo's father suggests.

He would if he could.

"Right," Kurapika says, keeping his voice light, as he pours the boiling water into a cup. The peppermint works well on his throat, and Dr. Yorkshire had suggested it after he told her pain relievers wouldn't cut it. "If you don't mind, I should really be going."

He heads to his room, mug in hand. It's just as he left it. The walls still painted a light cream, his bed still immaculately made. Books line the shelf in neat succession. His desk is cleared and clean. Kurapika strives for perfection in everything he does, and that includes his cleaning habits. One speck of dust is enough to drive him insane. Which was unfortunate, because dust builds up rather quickly when you're as busy as Kurapika.

The boy makes his way to his desk and collapses into the swivel chair. The peppermint tea splashes around a little but manages to mostly stay in the mug. He brings it to his lips and takes a small sip. His throat rebels and he coughs a bit. Then, he takes another sip, and another, until half is gone and his throat eases into a dull throb. He reaches under the desk for his bag, and pulls out a binder and his AP physics book. His teachers had decided that three days are long enough for them to get used to the flow of school again and proceeded to drop a ton of assignments on their students. Kurapika doesn't complain. These days, distractions are welcome.

He's through half of his workload by the time his phone buzzes. He suspects to see his mother asking him where exactly they put the magnolias and jasmines. It isn't his mother. In fact, he isn't sure who it is. The number is one he's never seen before. He presses the notification anyway.

'Hi this is Leorio i wanted to ask if u got home alright.'

Kurapika rolls his eyes, puts his phone on silent, and tosses it on the bed. But then, a question forms in his mind, and it keeps eating away at him like some sort of carnivorous virus, just munching on his thoughts and making it impossible to get any work done. And so, half an hour later, he grabs his phone and texts back.

'How did you get my number?'

The reply comes swiftly.

'i asked dr yorkshire for it sorry i was worried.'

Could he not even attempt to use proper grammar?

'I see. Delete it.'

Leorio's reply almost wrangles a laugh out of him.

'i don't know how.'

'You do not understand the functions of your own phone?'

'it's new! i'm still getting used to it!'

Kurapika snorts.

'Why are you texting me?'

'i told you i was worried'

'And why were you worried? You don't put much faith in your friends, do you.'

Kurapika stares at the screen for a few seconds, his grip tightening. Damn! Why'd he have to spout out such nonsense. Now he's going to think they're buddies.

'so, we're friends?"

Kurapika's fingers freeze for just a second, before beginning to type out a clear, concise response.

'No.'

Leorio takes far longer to respond this time, and Kurapika begins to think he'd dropped out of the conversation altogether.

'sorry.'

He is, too.

'It's alright. Thanks for reaching out.'

'i guess we'll see each other at the hospital, then? bye.'

'Bye.'

Well, that was awkward.

His home screen flashes in again. The clock reads nine and Kurapika heads back to his work. He has to hurry up if he doesn't want to be half-dead in school tomorrow.

. . .

6:00 am

Forget going to sleep early in order to not be half-dead. It doesn't matter when Kurapika falls asleep, he'll always be a zombie the next morning.

The blond runs a hand through his messy hair, stretching out and yawning. He has a bit of a coughing spell afterward because deep breaths aren't compatible with sore throats.

His steps are soft on the hardwood floor. Waking up his parents is the last thing he wants. They're tired enough as it is.

The bathroom door falls closed, and his reflection stares back at him. Growing eye bags, a tired look on his face, and unkempt hair. A small, nearly invisible lump protrudes from the side of his throat. The boy scowls at him and Kurapika sighs.

He really needs to work on his default expression.

. . .

"You have your lunch?" Kurapika's mother asks. "You books? Binders? Notebooks. Pencil case."

"Mom," Kurapika interrupts. "I have everything. Trust me. Everything I need is in the bag."

His mother nods, and for a second, it looks like he has convinced her. He should've known better. "But what about things you don't need now but might need later?"

"Rina," his father intervenes from where he stands in the kitchen, "he's been doing this for twelve years. He's fine."

"Right, right," the blonde laughs, before turning back to her son. "Just remember. If you start to feel sick, you go straight to the nurse."

Kurapika's already at the door by the end of that sentence. He mutters a quick agreement and leaves.

. . .

Later that day, during homeroom, Kurapika is asked to be a tutor for one of the sophomore students. A young boy named Gon Freecss, who had a tough time freshman year and had jumped on the chance to have someone help him. Kurapika agrees on principle, before mentally slapping himself because he certainly doesn't have time to take on what is essentially a part-time job. Nor is he in the right condition for it. He's practically sick every other week!

Still, a few hours later, he drags himself to one of the study rooms in the library and settles in one of the large armchairs around the table. Gon is running late, so Kurapika starts on one of his many essays instead. The library stays quiet for the most part, just the way libraries should be. The smell of books permeates every nook and cranny. It all calms him down somewhat.

His silence is shattered soon, however.

"I'm sorry I'm late!" a boy yelled, bolting through the door and into the private study room. The boy sports spiky green hair and large, amber eyes. A nervous look plays on his face, probably worried about the consequences of being tardy.

Kurapika slides his laptop away and places a reassuring smile on his face.

"No problem," he replies. "Gon, right? My name is Kurapika."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Kurapika," Gon says, grinning.

Kurapika's eyes bulge. Mister?

The blond laughs it off and responds, "I'd appreciate it if you dropped the mister, Gon. We're only a few years apart."

"Oh, sorry," Gon chuckles, nervously scratching the back of his head. "It's nice to meet you, Kurapika."

At least, he isn't a brat.

"Well, what would you like to start with?" asked the blond.

Gon digs into his book bag and pulls out a disorganized binder, and Kurapika freezes, before reaching out to take it from him.

"Do you mind if I?"

Gon shakes his head and forks it over. Five minutes later, there's a satisfied Kurapika, a beautifully organized binder, and a wonder-struck Gon.

"Woah!" Gon exclaims. "That was so fast! How'd you do that?"

"Practice," Kurapika replies, handing it back to the younger boy, "I'm the designated Organizer back at my house."

"Woah," Gon whispers, still recovering from the shock.

"So, what do you need help on?"

They start with chemistry. Most of the problems are easily solved, and Kurapika is quite certain any competent teacher would be able to help out the spiky-haired boy. Then, he sees the name on his schedule, and it all becomes clear.

Morow, Hisoka.

Why is that man still employed?

**. End of Chapter .**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Hisoka and Killua make an appearance. Also, Gon takes the spotlight for the chapter.
> 
> (A/N: For the record, this is not a LeoPika story, unless you really want it to be in which case I don't mind writing it. It's probably easier than KuroKura, anyway. But, as of right now, Kurapika and Leorio aren't going to be together. Especially, when Kurapika's underage. Leorio ain't going to jail anytime soon. On another note, I'm thinking of changing perspectives every few chapters to spice things up. Thoughts?)

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me in the comments if you want me to continue. Also, would you prefer the next chapters to be in present or past tense? Thank you so much for reading, as always, and please comment if you have anything to say. Or even if you don't. I love hearing from all of you.


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